Is from the books of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd.
Sonnet xxv.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Sonnet xxx.
Full many a glorious morning have I seen.
Sonnet xxxiii.